Belle
by Yasona Black
Summary: Beasts are beasts. They cannot change. After Harry is expelled from St. Brutus, the Dursleys kick him out to the streets where Albus Dumbledore finds him and sends him to Severus Snape for his protection. A Snarry!Beauty and the Beast AU Implied abuse
1. Chapter 1

_Belle_

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>The man is beastly. His lanky body swoops down to peer into the boy's face.<p>

"My father was a good man!" the boy yells, even though he really hasn't a clue; he has never met his father, with him being dead and all.

"Your father," begins the beastly man in a sneering voice, his pale upper lip peels back to reveal jagged yellow teeth, "was an arrogant swine." A nostril flares from the beastly man's large, hooked nose. Long, pale fingers lift the boy's already partially raised chin. "And you, _Belle_," he draws out the name mockingly, "are nothing more than a spoilt brat."

The boy squirms.

"My name's not Belle," the boy says defiantly. "It's Harry."

The man's eyes flash before lingering carefully on the vivid green of Harry's eyes.

"You'll be Belle."

"Why?"

Impertinent brat, the man thinks.

"Because you have nowhere else to go, do you, Belle?"

The beastly man grins and Harry find his smile more terrible to behold than the utter hatred the man seems to garner every time he looks upon Harry's face.

Harry tries to keep a blank mask on his face but when the beast man straightens triumphantly, Harry knows that he has failed. In a last ditch effort to appear stronger, Harry says, "Dumbledore sent me here."

But it turns out to be the worst thing to say because the beast man clutches his hands into dual fists and his bottom lip curls back, joining the top lip, in the most vicious sort of sneer that Harry has ever seen.

The man pulls back his shoulder and Harry slightly ducks his head and waits for the blow.

When it doesn't come, Harry looks up to see the man looking strangely discomfited. The beast man squints his eyes, creating a multitude of lines in his forehead. Harry thinks that the man is now picking him apart like a chemist trying to figure out a new experiment.

"Follow me," the man says. Without waiting for an answer, he turns and strides down the hall, his long black coat billowing behind him.

And Harry has no choice but to follow.

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>The man is a beast. That is all Harry knows. He could be the most beautiful man in the world, but his temperament would still be that of a beast. Every word was vocally cutting. Every gesture was angrily sardonic. He was beast inside and outside. And since he had not been told the man's name, in his head, Harry simply calls him Beast.<p>

But Beast has a way of catching him off guard. It seemed that Beast delighted in provoking Harry to say something unpleasant so that Beast could fill his day with snide comments about his father. Today is no different.

Every time Harry sits at the table for breakfast, he's always wide-eyed in shock. He attempts to cover it but Beast reminds him of a curling snake, watching and waiting for every slight bit of his life that didn't quite fit. And Harry knows that Beast knows he's faking his ease with breakfast.

"What's the matter, Belle?" Beast asks in a sickening voice. "Not good enough for you? Your father had an expensive uncultured palate as well." It's a common enough morning greeting from the man, but it was a night of nightmares and burning pain in his forehead.

Harry's face burns. For a moment he wants to explain that he's just in awe over so much food, prepared specifically for _him_, for _Harry_. No. _Belle_, his mind supplied. He wasn't Harry here, but he can't stop being Harry either.

And Harry has always had Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. Vernon had delighted in that fact. And it had always been made worse with less sleep.

Harry accepts a small serving of porridge as usual and says, "No, Beast, of course it's not." When Harry sees Beast looking murderous, his hands clutching the tablecloth, his mouth just beginning to open, Harry continues, "Of course it's not. I wouldn't want _anything_ served by a greasy git of a bastard like you." Harry allows his eyes to linger on Beast's exceptionally greasy, lank hair.

He knows he's in it for it and that there's not long to wait.

Beast stands up. The chair screeches against the floor. Harry stands as well, even knowing quite well how pitifully small and skinny he looks compared to Beast.

"How _dare_ you," Beast hisses. "I allow you into my home, I cook you meals, and this is how you repay me?"

Harry tilts his head up defiantly. He will be brave. It's all he has left.

Beast grabs the bowl of porridge from Harry's place and throws it against the wall.

"You can go hungry, for all I care. Stay in your room. If you leave, I will know it."

Harry doesn't need to be told twice; confinement was something he was used to. But before he goes, he hears Beast say "Belle," in a strangled sort of voice.

He doesn't understand. He tells himself that he doesn't want to understand. His traitorous body tries to turn, but he swears up and down that he does not _want_ to look.

He will not look.

Beasts are beasts. They do not change.

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>"You <em>will<em> respect me. You will call me 'Sir' at all times and I don't care if everyone else calls me Professor Snape or Severus. So long as you live here you will call me 'Sir' and _only_ 'Sir'."

Harry was trying to listen to Beast, and it was quite interesting that after weeks of living in the strange manor that he was only learning his host's proper name, but Harry had also not left the room for three days. He was quite adept in knowing how to survive without much food (make that none, since he had been forbidden meals) and as it had been quite rainy, he had been storing small cups of water underneath his borrowed bed. He shifts his legs and jiggles one.

"For Merlin's sake, boy, can you not sit still?" Beast demands.

Harry flushes. With a dreading feeling in the pit of his stomach, he looks uncomfortably at the man. "I-I have to…you know."

"No, Potter, I don't know."

The use of his last name is such a shock that for a split second he forgets about his problem. But only for a split second. "I have to use the loo," Harry says in a rush that blends his words together.

Beast looks at him strangely.

"How old are you?" he asks derisively.

Frustrated, Harry grinds out, "If I could leave this bloody room, I wouldn't have this problem."

Had Harry's call to nature not been so urgent he would have been shocked to see the look on Beast's face.

"You haven't left the room in three days?" Beast says slowly.

Harry shifts his legs again. "No," he answers irritably.

"At all? Not to go anywhere? Not for food or water or anything?"

There's gears grinding in Beast's head that Harry really can't focus on. "Can I use the loo?"

He sounds like a child.

"May I use the loo," Beast automatically corrects.

"May I," Harry grinds out, his face flushed extremely red and sweat dripping from his brow.

Beast simply nods and Harry tears out of the room.

Unknown to Harry, Beast sits heavily on the creaking bed, slowly taking in the room around him with a look of disgust.

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>Professor Severus Snape knew very well that he was not a nice man. He didn't go so far as to think he was evil, no, that was more up the Dark Lord's league. He wasn't quite that bad. He knew he was unseemly and unpleasant.<p>

And though he might have turned down Belle's need for shelter, had it only been him who had come to him, he was unable to turn down Albus' need for shelter for Belle.

Albus Dumbledore had been the only one to ever reach out to him.

He would not spit on the only kind hand he had ever known.

Even if it was Potter's complete look-a-like son who had to live with him for the foreseeable future.

He expected arrogance and defiance. He expected a cocky, smirking boy with a glow to his skin and hurtful mischief in his eyes. At first, he thought he had gotten exactly what he expected. James Potter in miniature.

But seeing a small paper cup half-hidden underneath the bed with just the barest hint of water, Severus wondered exactly what he had been seeing. He leans over to pick up the cup and winces when a broken spring pokes his thigh.

And that's when he sees three paper cups lined up carefully beneath the bed along with a couple rotted berries.

Severus climbs off the bed and gets on his hands and knees to see what else the boy is hiding, but there's nothing more than a stale piece of crust. He picks up the couple rotten berries and one of the paper cups and as he stands he hears the boy's soft feet enter the room.

He turns and Belle's face reddens to the tips of his ears and his eyes are full of shame.

Strange how James Potter had never looked like that.

He waits for accusations. He waits for Potter to lose it. But Belle just stands there with a glazed look in his green eyes and his soft pink lips just slightly parted. His tongue peeks through the corner of his mouth. And his hands…His hands trembles with fear as his chest rises and falls with carefully measured breathing.

This was not the look of arrogance.

There is a buzzing sound in Severus head and a pounding beneath his temples. The small room seems to shrink around him. Wordlessly, still holding the paper cup of water and the rotten berries, he leaves the room.

He doesn't realize that he hasn't told the boy that he could leave the room.

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>It's two days before Severus realizes that he hasn't seen the Potter boy. He's overwhelmed with anger; surely, the boy knew to leave the room for meals and bathroom breaks. Gritting his teeth, Severus calls for the house-elf. "Ziddy is here to help!" the elf says excitedly. Severus took a deep breath; why Albus had insisted on the over-excited house-elf to attend to the manor, he had no idea. No, wait. He did. Precious Potter. Just the thought of the boy made him sneer. The house-elf ears droop and he opens his mouth to apologize, but Severus cuts him off.<p>

"Have you seen the boy, lately?" Severus asks, trying to keep the bite out of his town.

Either he failed or the house-elf was terrified that he had done something wrong.

Ziddy pulls at his ears. "Master Just Harry," he begins but Severus interrupts.

"Belle."

Ziddy nods jerkily. "Master Belle won't leave his room though he is being sad and hungry. He is saying it is punishment," Ziddy gulps and Severus motions him to continue. "Ziddy tells Master Belle he is not being punished no more, but Master Belle is saying that Master Severus is having not told Master Belle his punishment is being done. Ziddy is trying to tell Master Belle that Ziddy knows Master Severus is being a good wizard and would never starve anyone in his care."

_Master Severus is being a good wizard._ The words fill him with pride until he realizes that he's getting emotional over a house-elf. Since when did house-elves say anything bad about their masters?

Severus pinches the bridge of his nose. "I told that blasted boy he could…" he trails off as he tries to remember precisely what he had told the boy. He had been in the room. He had thought it strange that the boy had been so accepting of staying in a room for three days that he had somehow saved water and rotten food underneath his bed. Surely, he had confronted the boy? Surely, the boy knew he could leave by now?

He tries to recall the look on Belle's face before he had left the room. He had seen it out of the corner of his eye. But try as though he might, Severus could not for the life of him bring his face to mind. Strangely, James Potter's face didn't show up in his memory either.

"Is Master Severus wishing me to be bringing Master Harry to him, sir?" Ziddy asks, wringing his hands.

"No," Severus answers. "Thank you," he adds, ignoring the look of awe on Ziddy's face. "I will go fetch him myself."

Ziddy nods and with a _crack_, he disappears.

Severus runs a hand through his hair and grimaces when he realizes he may have made bits of his hair stick up. He runs his hand through his hair again to fix it. He starts to make his way to the boy's room.

Perhaps he should look in the mirror before he goes to fetch the boy.

He stops dead in his tracks.

Where _had_ that thought come from? He most certainly would not prune himself for the likes of Potter's spawn. Severus scowls and hurries his steps to the boy's room. He would drag that boy out of his room if it was the last thing he did. He was done playing this game. If the boy thought he could make it seem as if Severus was abusing him, well, Severus could very well give him what he wanted.

When he reaches the boy's room, he slams the door open and it hits the wall with a mighty thud. And then Severus freezes.

He had never wished that he knocked on a door first more than at this moment.

The boy was at the window, his trousers and pants down to his knees displaying his bare bum for Severus to see, and he was in the middle of _pissing_ out the window. The boy jerks halfway around, his eyes wide with fear.

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. The two merely look at each other with mouths gaping.

Severus recovers first. "For Merlin's sake, boy! Pull your pants up!"

The boy looks at him strangely, even as he flushes spectacularly. He steps back from the window and bends over and pulls up his pants and trousers. "Merlin," he breathes.

It's a moment before Severus realizes he's not using 'Merlin' in a shocked voice, but a questioning one. He tucks the curiosity in a deep, dark corner of his mind. He does not have time for the idiot boy's oddities.

Looking at the boy's embarrassed face and to the window, what Severus really wants to do is yell at him for pissing in the flowerbeds that were directly beneath the window. Instead, he orders the boy to get everything out from beneath his bed.

The terror on the boy's face is like nothing he's ever seen, and yet, Severus thinks he knows the terror. The boy slowly and grudgingly pulls out one of the paper cups and hands it to him with his head lowered. The cup is empty.

When the boy doesn't make another move to grab anything else from beneath the bed, Severus snaps, "Everything."

Defiance flashes in the boy's eyes before he lowers his dark lashes and crawls under the bed again. This time he hands the other paper cup to Severus along with half of the stale piece of crust that he had found the other day.

"Is that everything?" Severus asks, sneering.

The boy nods jerkily, licking his chapped lips.

"Do tell me why you haven't left this room." It was a command, straight and simple. But the boy looked at him as if he had asked him how to brew the draught of death without any ingredients on hand.

Like before, the boy opens and closes his mouth while trying to come up with an answer. Finally he decides on an, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Did I or did I not tell you that you could leave the room?"

There was that look of terror back in his eyes, as if he was a caged animal.

The boy hunches his shoulders and puts his chin down to his chest. "You…You did not, sir," he says softly.

"Speak up, boy!"

The boy flinches. "You did not, sir," the boy says, somewhat louder.

"And how many times have you left your room?"

"Just the once, sir, I swear," he says quickly. "You gave me permission, sir," he hastily tacks on.

"When I sent you to your room I only meant for you to stay for the rest of the day. Not for five days. You're daft if you think I meant that you couldn't use the loo like civilized wizards. You will stop hiding in here. You will stop stealing food. You will eat at the dinner table or not at all. You will not store food like some sort of savage beneath your bed. If you need water, you will get it from the kitchen."

The boy stares incredulously at him, as if he had just been informed that the sky was not blue but green.

"Do you understand?" Severus grinds out.

"Yes, sir," the boy answers meekly, even as he stared in some sort of foolish wonderment at Severus.

Severus sighs and he wonders what happened to the defiant Belle he had allowed in his home weeks ago. He ignores the voice that says that he accidentally locked him up in a room for five days.

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>Over the next couple weeks, Harry finds he can't look at Beast without blushing, nor can he sit near him without flinching whenever he comes too close. But Beast carries on as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened and Harry does all that he can to not get in trouble with Beast. He thinks he's far too old to be so careful to a man who obviously hates him; but Harry knows that he has nowhere to go. The Dursleys will no longer take him in since St. Brutus expelled him. He has no money to his name and is thus dependent on Beast for both food and shelter.<p>

It was all very odd. At times, Harry thinks he would have been better off on the street, but here he gets meals, even if Beast talks in the oddest ways, similar to the way the man named 'Dumbledore' talked. There were mentions of magic and Merlin here and there. He noted that Beast often said 'Merlin' where any normal person would say 'God' when irritated or angry. The man even carried a funny stick. At first, Harry thought he used it to hit people with, but though the man threw things and yelled, he didn't seem to ever hit anyone. Harry thinks that perhaps the man fancied himself a wizard.

After three weeks of very quiet dinners taken together, Harry notices Beast looking at him strangely one night.

Harry checks to make sure that his elbows aren't on the table and that he's using his silverware properly. When he's certain that he's not breaking etiquette again, he looks at Beast, confused.

"Where did you go to school?" Beast asks, in what Harry assumed passed for a pleasant voice for him.

Harry nearly chokes on a mouthful of carrots. "St. Brutus," Harry says, leaving off the 'Center for Incurably Criminal Boys' for the moment. He doesn't want to give Beast any more ammunition than he has to. "Sir," he adds on after a long pause.

"A posh wizarding school, I assume," Beast says.

And now Harry knows Beast is mocking him. Beast must have heard of the school and knew it was a school for juvenile delinquents.

Harry says nothing else and the man takes it as agreement.

"Better than Hogwarts, I suppose?" Beast's eyes are searching for something.

Harry had never heard of Hogwarts but he nods slowly.

"The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, will be here in a few days," Beast says.

"Dumbledore!" Harry says with a gasp.

For a moment, Harry thinks Beast looks pleased with his reaction.

"He was quite disappointed that you chose not to attend Hogwarts. I, however, am glad that I didn't have to put up with you for seven years."

Something clicks in Harry's mind. "You're a professor at Hogwarts!" he shouts excitedly.

Beast merely raises an eyebrow. "Your intelligence is astounding, Belle."

Beast takes his napkin from his lap and folds it carefully on the table. "As I was saying, Belle, Albus Dumbledore will be here in a few days. He would like to talk to you about your education."

Harry's heart sinks. He didn't think that things had been going that bad. Sure, it wasn't like they had gotten along…at all…but he thought it had been going decently enough. He had been about to ask Beast if he was supposed to start getting a job. But no, they were going to send him back to a juvenile detention center. From the sounds of it, a much worse, juvenile detention center. Harry blinked back tears.

"May I be excused, sir?" Harry asks, trying to control his shaking voice. Beast merely waves him off and Harry carefully places his dishes in the sink and flees to his room. When he gets there, he paces around the room. It wasn't a very big room but it had a window without bars and a bed that came with a comforter as well as sheets and pillows. There were strange singe marks on the ceiling but the walls looked like they were freshly painted.

He paces until he feels determined. He's not quite brave, but perhaps he'll be brave once he goes back down to Beast. He practices his speech in his mind and tries to remember that he is definitely not to say 'Beast' but 'Sir' and that appealing to the idea that Beast, no, Sir, will be rid of him for longer periods of time had always worked well in the past.

Just in case, Harry packs his few belongings, a couple pairs of clothes, a journal, and a couple old books in a bag. It's a quick getaway bag.

It's a couple hours after dinner before Harry works up the nerve to go down and see Be—Sir. He takes a deep breath before opening the door and slowly walking to the sitting room that Sir preferred to have his evening tea in.

Harry finds the man in sitting in an armchair reading a strange book about 'potions' and sipping a still steaming cup of black tea.

"Sir," Harry begins hesitantly.

The man slowly lowers his book and fixes Harry with a calculating stare. Harry takes it to mean that he can continue.

"Sir, I've been truly appreciative of your hospitality," Harry begins trying to remember the bigger sounding words he could come up with, "and I was thinking that perhaps it was time for me to go out and get a job."

Harry steps back at the look on Beast's face. It was _murdererous_.

"How _dare_ you," Beast hisses and Harry is uncomfortably reminded of one of Beast's earlier episodes of rage. "After all I've done, after all _we've_ done for you. Have you _any_ idea of what we've gone through for you? And this is how you want to repay us?"

Harry steps back again when Beast raises his arm.

"Get out," he growls. Harry is suddenly frozen. "GET OUT!" he yells.

Finally, Harry rushes out of the room, his feet thundering on the ground with every step towards his room. He slams his door closed and kicks the wall. Unfortunately, the wall is extremely hard and Harry hops around on one foot for a few seconds, trying to rid himself of the pain. He looks at the bag on the bed.

Nothing was ever going to change. Not ever. Everyone only saw him as a criminal and now they were just going to lock him away. Again. No. It would not happen. He had seventeen years of crap. One more year and he would be an adult. He would figure this out. He wasn't going to let people push him around for the rest of his life.

And besides, Beast didn't want him here. Beast had never wanted him here. Why on earth, Harry had been allowed to stay, he didn't know.

Furiously chewing on his lip, Harry grabs the bag and zips it closed. He looks out the window and thinks the flowerbed would make for an okay landing if he ended up falling off the side of the house. He remembers from the few movies that he had seen that there was some way of escaping out the window by tying sheets together but he didn't have enough time for that. He needed to get out immediately. He locks the door and puts the small desk chair against the doorknob. He knows it won't keep Beast out for long, but he didn't think Beast would really care. Harry hefts the bag onto his shoulder and heads out through the open window.

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>Severus doesn't bother to check on the boy for a day and a half. If the boy wanted to starve himself that was fine with him. If the boy wanted to play the victim, let him. The stupid brat had no idea what everyone was going through to protect him.<p>

Halfway through the second day, Severus throws the newspaper down on the table. He had the strangest urge to check on the boy and it kept niggling at him. Belle's bright green eyes kept looking fearfully at him, his shoulders hunching inward when he got too close, his hands clenching into fists right before a retort.

The table felt empty.

Severus growls at the empty room. He did _not_ miss the stupid boy.

The crack of a house-elf popping up nearly startles him.

"Master Severus! Master Severus!" Ziddy cries.

"What?" Severus snaps and Ziddy draws in a fearful breath.

"Ziddy be looking for Master Belle for he is dropping his notebook so Ziddy is popping up to Master Belle's room to be putting it away but Master Severus, Master Belle is being gone!" Ziddy pulls at his ears.

Impossible. Nobody could get through his wards without him knowing about it. Without a word to Ziddy, Severus turns on his heel and runs to Harry's room. His heart thuds traitorously in his chest. He tries to open the door, but it is locked. "Alohamora," he says pointing his wand at the keyhole. There's a click of the doorknob unlocking but the door stays closed. Severus frowns and twists the handle. There's something blocking the door. Severus mutters a blasting curse and the door flies open and Severus can see the remains of the small desk chair across the room. Apart from the chair, the room is perfectly clean. Even the bed is made. It looks as if Belle had never been in the room at all.

The fear turns into anger. The stupid boy had left. Had he no sense of self-preservation? Didn't he know that there was a Dark Lord hunting him down this very moment? And all for what? A job? It didn't make any sense.

With a heavy heart and a mind chock full of questions, Severus begins to search Belle's room to look for any clues that he may have left behind.

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><p>OoO<p>

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><p>Grimacing, Harry limps unhappily towards a tiny, broken-down store. It turned out that flowerbeds were not as good at breaking falls as Harry had hoped. However, Harry was quite used to things like sprained ankles. The other problem, was that Harry had not realized quite how far into the middle of nowhere Beast had lived. In retrospect, it occurred to Harry that of course someone like Beast would shut himself away in the middle of nowhere; it wasn't as if he was a people person. He didn't go to teas or any sort of social engagement.<p>

Harry snorts at the thought of Beast wearing Aunt Petunia's best hostess clothes and smiling good-naturedly while eating scones and biscuits. But thinking of the Dursleys made him think of St. Brutus and he immediately sobers up.

It wasn't as if he _meant_ to burn down the chemistry lab. But St. Brutus didn't believe in accidents and after the burnt-out chemistry lab, Harry had one too many unexplained accidents around him and had been expelled as a lost cause. They sent a letter to the Dursleys saying that there were only a couple other schools that might take him in but there was no guarantee. Harry was too volatile.

Harry wasn't stupid; he knew that his constant speaking out (subsequently labeled 'cheek') never helped matters, but he couldn't help it. And for some reason, no matter how often he told the truth, he was never believed. No one ever believed him about anything. So when he tried to explain to the Dursleys that he really had no idea how the chemistry lab had caught on fire, Uncle Vernon turned bright purple and within an hour he was told to never come back to the house.

And then, he had barely been on the street for more than half a day, when the strangest man approached him, wearing something similar to a bright purple dress with twinkling silver stars and crescent moons that seemed to shimmer in the light. He had shockingly white hair and beard and tiny bright blue eyes that peered over half-moon spectacles. At first, Harry thought that he was insane. Wait, scratch that. Harry was still pretty sure that he was insane. He talked to Harry as if he had known him all of his life. He 'tsk tsk tsked' about the Dursleys, mentioned something about Merlin, and then told him that he had a place to stay for him. An old friend of his. His voice was so trusting and Harry had liked to think he had a good intuition about people, so he readily agreed.

And yet, here he was, Harry thinks bitterly. Trusting an old, probably stoned man was definitely not one of his better ideas.

Harry finally reaches the large steps up towards the door. His ankle throbs and Harry looks for the ramps that sometimes led inside. He sighs when he realizes he was just going to have to grab on the railing to get up the steps. His hand clamps around the rusting railing and he pulls himself up with his good foot and repeats the process. As his ankle screams at him, Harry starts hoping that it was just a sprain. Really, he's done this before but it's never hurt quite like this.

Shaking his head, Harry pushes those thoughts from his mind and tries to bury the pain in the back of his mind. He needed to get away from here and he needed directions. After all, when the man brought him here, it seemed as if he arrived in the blink of an eye, yet this place seemed to be nowhere around Surrey.

Harry sighs with relief when he sees the 'Open' sign and opens the rickety door. A bell chimes through the store and Harry can't quite pin down where exactly it came from.

A bushy-haired girl who looks about his age comes thundering down a curvy flight of stairs with a large dusty book clutched in her hands. She looks up and down his dirty and mussed clothes and mutters something about boys before eagerly sticking her hand out for him to shake.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she says, "And you're the first customer I've seen in three weeks. In fact, you're the first customer I've ever seen as I've only worked here for three weeks. The place is rather remote but the collection of books is the best I've ever seen." She finally stops to take a breath in.

"I'm Belle, I mean, I'm Harry," Harry says with a groan. Now Beast has gotten him thinking that his name really was Belle. It's a good thing he got out of there. "Uhm, but I'm not really a customer."

The girl's smile falls but she still opens her mouth to speak.

Harry quickly cuts her off to avoid another long-winded speech. "I'm lost, I'm trying to get back to Surrey."

The girl's eyes widen. "You're rather far from Surrey."

"Why? Where am I?"

"You mean you don't know?" Hermione asks, shocked. "Haven't you done a locator spell?"

What was with these people and their talk of magic?

"Uhm, no, I don't know."

"You're in Scotland," Hermione answers. While she wasn't as bad as Beast, she certainly didn't seem to think he was very intelligent either.

Harry blinks. Scotland. There was no way he was in Scotland. The room lurches before him and he tries to steady himself on a bookcase.

"But I was in England," Harry says. "I was in _England_. That strange man brought me to _Scotland_ and I don't remember getting here.

The girl lets out a gasp. "You were kidnapped!" She says it victoriously before suddenly seeming to realize how terrible it sounded. "I mean…" she trails off looking confused. "Who kidnapped you?"

Had he really been kidnapped? Was that how kidnapping worked? He wasn't threatened or anything. But…He also did not remember leaving England and coming to Scotland. And people just didn't forget things like that, did they?

He looks at Hermione's wide brown eyes. "I think I was," he says slowly. And suddenly he's angry. "That bloody son of a bitch!" he yells and he can tell Hermione almost shushes him before realizing that it's a bookstore, not a library.

"What do you need?" Hermione asks.

"A place to stay," Harry says immediately. At Hermione's frown he adds, "Not for very long. Just for a day or so until I can figure out how to get back…" He trails off. Why would he go back to Surrey? There was nothing for him there. But he also didn't want to stay in the area where the man who kidnapped him was.

Harry can see the wheels turning in her head and steam practically coming out of her ears. She was also searching around the room as seeing if she could discern answers on how to deal with people who escaped from kidnappers from a book.

"I don't get off until late tonight, but there's a couch on the back you can sleep on; you look absolutely exhausted." She hesitates before adding, "You can stay for a night but no funny business. I can protect myself just fine, understand?"

It takes Harry a minute to figure out exactly what she's talking about. "Oh!" he says, and then almost smacks himself on the forehead. "No, no, I would never do anything like that."

"That's what they all say," Hermione says threateningly.

Harry holds his hands up. "I promise," he says seriously.

"I'll be watching you," she says, "Now I have stuff to look up."

Harry nods and heads to the couch she pointed out earlier, and collapses onto it, falling asleep in seconds.

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><p>TBC<p>

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><p>Reviews, comments, and critiques hugely appreciated!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_Belle_

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><p>o0o<p>

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><p>The boy had certainly taken everything with him; if he had started hoarding food again, which Severus was quite certain he had due to the crumbs beneath the bed, he had even taken that with him. The drawers in the desk were cleared right out with only small bits of muggle paper littering the bottom. Severus found it quite peculiar how obsessed the boy seemed to be with muggle items, so obsessed that he hadn't even seen even one single magical item. Nor, did he seem to use magic at all, at the very least, not in front of him. Had the boy been a year younger Severus would have thought that perhaps the boy wasn't so arrogant as to flout the degree of underage magic, yet the boy should have been like most his age, being thrilled at the prospect of finally being able to use magic legally.<p>

Unless the boy was practicing far away from him, then he would seem to have no more magic than a squib. Severus waves away that idea quickly. Of course the boy would be using magic foolishly and away from those more attuned.

Severus takes a seat on the bed and cast his eyes across the room. There really was nothing, just the barest hints that someone had occupied the room at one point. Yet, something niggles at the back of his brain. There was something important that he was missing. With a flash he calls out, "Ziddy!"

"Yes, Master Severus?" the house-elf asks excitedly.

"The book of the boy's, where is it?" Severus demands harshly.

Ziddy snaps her fingers and with a loud crack a small black notebook appears in her hand. She hands it to Severus who waves her off.

It's as muggle as it could possibly be, with a plastic cover and thin pages. Severus opens it and finds, _Property of Harry J. Potter_ written on the first page. He scoffs. Of course the brat would feel the need to label everything. He flips to the next page. Logically, he thinks that he should just flip to the end, but he finds himself wanting to know what the boy cares to write about. He would never tell anyone, and while the boy was more silent than not, he continuously found himself curious about the boy who abandoned Hogwarts with nothing more than a simple letter.

_Mrs. Primrose Williamson has decided that it would help if I wrote down the things that bothered me. "It'll help you in the future to become a good British citizen," she says. "Like your aunt and uncle and cousin," she says. Ha. Like I want to be like them. Only two more years to go, two more summers to go._

Severus stares at the page. The boy was obviously upset when he had written those words, the ink darkened in spots and a couple holes decorated the page. He flips to the next page, but it is blank. He shuffles through the pages only to learn that Potter had most certainly not taken Primrose Williamson's advice. He turns the book over to the back cover and starts rifling through, hoping the boy had written something at the end.

No such luck.

Severus flips the book over. With a sudden realization he begins trying spell after spell hoping that one will reveal a concealing spell. After a few minutes, it is clear that the boy has not written anything except the small excerpt on the first page. Irritated, he tosses the book at the wall. The stupid boy.

Ungrateful wretch.

He turns to leave but his well-trained eye spots a tiny folded piece of paper that looked like it had slid from some part of the book. Striding quickly across the room, he grabs the piece of paper and unfolds it. It's unlike anything he has ever read before.

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><p>o0o<p>

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><p>The sound of a door awakens Harry who rolls over on the couch and slaps his hand around for his glasses. When he finally finds them he places them on and squints from the darkened room and tries to peer into the front of the bookstore. He catches a glimpse of bright purple fabric that seemed to glitter and the bottom end of a pure white beard.<p>

He frowns. For some reason his heart thumps heavily in his chest.

"Professor Dumbledore!" the girl from earlier exclaims.

Harry bolts with a start and covers his mouth with his hand, trying to muffle his now heavy breathing.

Please don't please don't please don't, he thinks.

What he's asking for he's not really sure. Of course, he hadn't been clear on anything for the past few weeks. Or well, ever. Strange things just always seemed to happen around him, so why should he be surprised that his mysterious kidnapper seemed to know the woman who worked in the bookshop?

Wait. Harry thinks furiously, frozen in place. She called him 'professor' which would mean she was a delinquent as well. But that didn't seem right, not at all. She could be a reformed delinquent. Harry had never considered himself a delinquent, so he had always been uncertain on what a "reformed" delinquent was supposed to be like that and then on top of that, St. Brutus really had been for the worst of the worst.

Harry twists his lips nervously as the strange man begins to appear in his view again. He holds his breath waiting for the girl to betray him. Any moment now. The girl, Hermione, suddenly appears in front of the doorway, her back blocking the view between Harry and his kidnapper.

There's a strange, practically unintelligible conversation about lemon drops in which Hermione laughs and crosses her fingers behind her back. The strange man's robes make an odd swishing sound and Harry can spot a tall hat, also bright purple and glittering with a bunch of tiny moons and stars, peeking over Hermione's bushy hair. The top of the hat turns and Harry stays as still as he possibly can, every muscle in his body frozen and contracted into place. When the man moves closer, Harry stops breathing altogether.

"Well, Miss Granger, it was a pleasure seeing you again," the man says.

Hermione nods and says, "A pleasure, Professor."

The man's voice is louder this time, as if Harry is intended to hear it. "And as I said, if you see him, please let him know that I am looking for him and that he's not in any trouble," the man says.

"Yes, Professor."

The cone shaped hat turns and seems to bounce merrily across the doorway, the ostentatious fabric still making the swishing the sound. When Harry hears the door close, Hermione turns around and looks at Harry's wide-eyed face.

"Did he know I was here?" Harry asks, incredulously.

Hermione shifts uncomfortably.

"Did you tell him?" Harry demands.

"Well why wouldn't I?"

Harry notes quickly that it's not a question.

"Because he's the man that kidnapped me!"

Horror spreads across Hermione's face before turning into confusion. She shakes her head. "That's not possible. That's…He's a _teacher_," she stresses.

"And we all know all teachers are the paragon of virtue," Harry says wryly. "Besides, I think I would remember an outfit like that. For a kidnapper he's not very discreet."

Hermione lets out a strangled laugh before looking around the bookshop and wringing her hands. "What do I do?"

Harry doesn't know if she's asking him or herself but he stands up off the couch and grasps her fretting hands. "Look," he begins, "I understand that this is hard and it is really hard to go against the professors when you're finally on good terms with them, but I don't know that man. I don't know why he took me or why he sent me to that bloody awful house. Whatever he is to you, he's not the same to me, and I just want to get far away from the place. Can you help me do that?"

Hermione bites her lip.

"Please," Harry asks, turning her chin up to his eyes.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore is looking for you and you're not in any trouble. And now that I've let you know, I can help you."

"Used to breaking the rules, aren't you?" Harry asks with a wink.

Hermione blushes. "I didn't break any," she says adamantly. "My shift's over in a few minutes, let me lock up and then you can stay the night at my place."

"Thank you," Harry says, grabbing his bag from its spot next to the couch.

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><p>o0o<p>

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><p>The paper is definitely muggle, but a bit heavier than what Severus had often seen in his dealings with muggle families. The only paper his father were cheap thin sheets. This paper was different, thick, cream-coloured, and not a handwritten word anywhere on it. The top of the page had a line that stated, <em>"St. Brutus Center"<em> with a line directly beneath it that stated,_ "Where we teach boys how to integrate into proper society."_

Severus raises an eyebrow. An all boys school then. Womanizer James Potter would have been rolling in his grave, had he known his son not only refused to go to Hogwarts but also refused to go to a school with the opposite sex. He reads on.

_To the parents and/or guardians of Mr. Harry James Potter,_

_We regret to inform you that Mr. Harry James Potter is hereby expelled from St. Brutus. For the past six years we have worked with Mr. Potter in trying to reign in his temper, his lying, his insubordination, and his vandalism. While at times it seemed that he was improving, it is our belief that he had only become more skilled with his dishonesty. He has also refused to work with the school psychiatrist and we are unable to place him in any work programs._

_The last act of vandalism in which he set fire to one of the classrooms, yet again, has only secured our knowledge that Mr. Potter is no longer fit for our services. We regret to pass on this difficulty to you, so on the attached page is a list of centers that may be better suited to work with Mr. Potter._

_Best wishes,_  
><em>George Hammond<em>  
><em>Headmaster of St. Brutus<em>

A thrill races through Severus' heart. Like father, like son. Except unlike his father, Potter had obviously not gotten away with his mischief. There were things that struck him as peculiar with the letter. It was completely muggle, right down to the description of 'psychiatrist' instead of 'mediwizard'. Then he remembers that Potter's guardians were muggle and perhaps the school used muggle means and terms to make them more comfortable.

It had been clear from the moment that Potter was dropped off, in the middle of the night, no less, by Albus Dumbledore (who had immediately disappeared), that Potter's guardians had obviously had it with him. Scanning the letter once again, Severus now knows exactly why.

And yet, as Severus scans the paper for a third time, he can't help but feel that he is missing something direly important. He folds the paper back into the small square that he had originally found it and tucks it into his pocket. He picks up the notebook off the floor and performs a shrinking spell and places it into his pocket as well. Though the items are barely noticeable, they seem to weigh his pockets down.

And then Severus realizes that he still has no idea where the boy has fled to.

* * *

><p>o0o<p>

* * *

><p>While Hermione locks up the bookstore, Harry stays as hidden in the shadows as he possibly can and casts his eyes from right to left, looking for any slight sign that someone was coming his way. Luckily, no one seemed to be traveling on the darkened road.<p>

"So," Hermione begins, and Harry turns to see her stuffing a stick of wood into a pocket. Harry frowns. What was it with those sticks? Perhaps they were like Dudley's smelting stick? He had really never seen the point (besides getting hit with it) of the stick, but perhaps it was a big deal in some schools. "How would you like to get to my place?"

Harry looks around, wondering if she had a car hidden in the bushes or something similar. "Walking's fine by me," he says slowly.

Hermione grins happily. "I prefer walking as well. Most types of travel make my stomach churn. The fresh air also does me good."

"I'm terrible at buses," Harry says, trying to make some sort of acknowledgment. It seems to work.

"The Knight Bus is the worst," Hermione exclaims. "I was once on it in my fourth year, made me so queasy."

Hermione's remembrance of the queasiness did nothing to distract her from her story and with Harry half-listening, she describes the amount of twists and turns and something about how she expected that the bus was going to run over a woman walking across the street, but nearly avoided her.

Harry tries to add nods here and there as Hermione talked like someone unused to friends, or even acquaintances for that matter. Quite frankly, he had become a sounding board for the girl to get everything off of her chest.

"Oh look, we're here!" Hermione says brightly.

Unlike the austere feeling that Harry had the moment he had been dropped off in front of Beast's or Snape's house, Hermione's small cottage style house had an unkempt yet welcoming feel to it.

"I hope you don't mind, it's quite muggle," Hermione says, "but I much prefer it that way. Doing things by hand, I mean."

"It's perfect," Harry says, "I often did things by hand at my aunt and uncle's house all the time. Especially the gardening."

The look of relief on Hermione's face is overwhelming and for a moment Harry thinks she might just hug him. To his relief, she seems to stop. The place is a simple one-bedroom, with a kitchen and a sitting room.

"Thank you for letting me crash on your couch," Harry says from the sitting room where Hermione brings out two cups of steaming hot tea.

"You mentioned your aunt and uncle," Hermione says. "Are you going back to them, in Surrey? Surely, they must be worried about you."

"I doubt it," Harry says dryly.

At Hermione's frown, Harry adds, "they kicked me out."

Hermione lets out a gasp of horror. "Why?"

Harry turns red. "I uhm got expelled from my school."

"But they're your family," Hermione says, indignant on his behalf.

Harry shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?"

Harry shrugs. "It's fine, if anyone should be uncomfortable, it would be you."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asks sharply.

Perhaps those had been the wrong choice of words. Harry holds his hands up defensively. "I only meant that you are the one with a complete stranger in your house, which I appreciate very much, and if anyone would be allowed to be nervous about a situation, it would probably be you."

"That's the most I've heard you say at one time," she says. "Like I said before," she picks out the stick from before and points it at him, "I can defend myself, especially from perverts." She tucks the stick back into her pocket. It must be a hitting thing, Harry thinks.

"I'm really not the pervert type," Harry says and scratches his neck.

"Got any proof?"

"Nothing concrete. I could say that I bat for the other team, but a pervert could lie and say the same thing."

"Fair enough," Hermione says and then launches into a spiel about possible ways to make himself comfortable on the couch. The woman seemed to have a plan for everything combined with an inability to censor herself about them. Harry continues to thank her and covers up underneath a pink blanket covered with gold strands of cat hair. "Crookshanks," Hermione explains. "My cat," she adds at Harry's blank stare. "He'll probably come visit you at night. He likes people. Well some people." The last thing he thinks before falling asleep, again, is that Hermione doesn't strike him as a cat person.

* * *

><p>o0o<p>

* * *

><p>"Point me, Potter," Severus whispers but his wand whirls haphazardly in his hand. There's no clear direction. "Point me, Belle," Severus tries, thinking that perhaps his insistence on calling the brat Belle might actually point him in the right direction.<p>

He was surprised with how well Potter took to being called that. He didn't like it, that much was clear, but he didn't fight it. He hadn't planned on continuing to call the boy such, but as it got under Potter's skin, he found it mesmerizing in the way the boy squirmed. Severus wanted the argument. He had waited years for James Potter's brat to make it to Hogwarts, for someone he could take years worth of bottled up anger out on, and then the boy didn't come. All the Headmaster said was that the boy had written and decided to attend a different wizardry school and that Hogwarts just didn't fit the bill. Severus had sneered and called him pampered; how much better could one get than Hogwarts. Of course it wouldn't be enough for the savior of the wizarding world.

When the wand once again spins out of control, Severus grips it tightly in irritation. Stupid, stupid boy. It was as if the stupid boy didn't know that there was an array of Death Eaters out for his blood, just waiting to bring him back to the Dark Lord. The boy didn't have a care in the world. Just like his father. And the letter in his pocket proved that. It proved everything. Everything he had ever thought about the boy was correct. His guardians sent him to the best school, did everything they could to give him a proper education, but the boy's temperament proved to be too much for them. It was often too difficult for muggles to deal with a wizard child. Potter was even more so.

And though Severus is grateful that he didn't have to deal with Potter's spawn, he thinks that he may have been able to shape him up given the chance. Of course, and the thought seems to come out of nowhere, he can't help but wonder if the war would be going differently if Potter had been the one in the Hangleton graveyard and not Cedric Diggory.

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><p>o0o<p>

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><p>From the still darkened curtains, Harry can easily tell that it is not yet morning. The heavy weight pawing at his chest seems to think otherwise. Harry blinks and a large ginger cat's squashed face turns his head from left to right, his large whiskers ticking Harry's face.<p>

"Geroff me," Harry grunts and tries to shove the cat off of him but he doesn't budge, his bright orange eyes staring right through him. "What?" Harry asks, forgetting for the moment that it was a cat and couldn't answer him.

"Crookshanks," Harry says. The cat jumps off and down to the floor and begins scratching before running off into the adjacent bedroom. Harry hears Hermione grunting and a small "what?" as well. A blueish light flicks through the sitting room window before disappearing and Harry's up with a start. He strains his ears and he thinks he hears a snap of a twig from outside. It could be an animal, Harry tries to reassure himself, but then he hears another heavier snap.

From Hermione's room comes a large yowl. The bandy-legged cat is obviously unhappy, and Harry hears Hermione's bed creaking. He thinks she says something like "lumos" which makes no sense, but he supposes he shouldn't be surprised if she spoke multiple languages. Crookshanks dashes back to the sitting room and yowls at Harry and then bats at his trainers.

Another snap of a twig has Harry yanking his trainers on his feet and grabbing his bag.

"What's going on?" Hermione asks as she walks out of the room, her stick in hand which was no glowing. Well, it was certainly fancier than Dudley's Smelting stick that was for sure.

"I think there's someone out there," Harry whispers and waves towards the window.

"Get down!" she hisses and Harry drops.

Hermione crouches toward the window and peers out and then curses.

"Is it that Dumbledore man again?" Harry asks.

"That would be a much better option. Death Eaters."

_"Who?"_

But then the door explodes off its hinges and into slivers of wood that rain down all around them.

"Hide!" Hermione hisses, scrambling backwards, but there's nowhere to hide and neither can move fast enough before a black cloaked figure enters the room. The person's face is hidden by a white mask but there's a few wisps of long blonde hair peeking out. Harry thinks the person walks like a man.

"The mudblood Granger, I expected," the figure said, who was definitely male with a rather cultured voice. He pointed a stick at Hermione who held hers out with a shaking hand. "But Potter," the voice sounds pleased and Hermione lets out a strangled gasp.

"You're Harry Potter?" she asks, a thirst for knowledge in her eyes that even their dire situation couldn't seem to crush.

"Er, bigger problems?" Harry answers.

"Figures a mudblood wouldn't know Potter when it met one."

Harry isn't certain what a 'mudblood' is but the way he said it and the way the girl winces at it's mention, he's fairly certain that it's not a pleasant term. "Don't call her that!" he says with far more bravado than he feels.

"Of course you would protect her, like your dead mudblood mother."

"How do you know about my mum? And don't call her that!"

The man in the mask laughs and Hermione shouts "Reducto!" and a burst of red light is quickly blocked. The man shouts "Incarcerous" and thick ropes wrap tightly around Hermione and her stick drops to the floor. Harry stares wide eyed.

"Not much of a fighter, are you, Potter?"

"Who are you?" Harry demands.

The man reaches a hand to his face and takes his mask off. Behind it is a very pale man with light blue eyes, long blond hair, and rather aristocratic features. He arches an eyebrow as if waiting for him to make some sound of recognition. When Harry doesn't say anything he says, "Lucius Malfoy. I serve the Dark Lord. And if you don't come with me, your little mudblood friend isn't going to live very long. But I can guarantee you, it will be painful."

Harry glances at Hermione who looks like she's on the verge of tears. "Don't," she begs.

"Shut up, mudblood!" The blond man says a word that Harry can't quite make out and suddenly Hermione is gagged.

Harry holds up his hands. "Don't hurt her. I'll go."

The man twists his lips into a cruel smile. "Good," he says.

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><p>o0o<p>

* * *

><p>tbc<p>

A/N: Comments, reviews, and constructive criticism all loved and greatly appreciated!


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